


Endless Fog - Scar Island Fanfiction

by BeesInAmber



Category: Scar Island - Dan Gemeinhart
Genre: Accidents, Am I The First Person To Write Fan-fiction For This Book? Yes, But Really more People Need To Read This Book, Contemplation, Does That Make Me A Good Person Or Not? I Have No Idea, Fire, Flashbacks, Gen, Guilt, I Want To Talk About It With Other People :(, Inner Dialogue, Scars, Self-Hatred, So I'm getting the ball rolling, before the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesInAmber/pseuds/BeesInAmber
Summary: Jonathan sits and thinks while he waits for the boat to arrive.
Relationships: Jonathan Grisby & Sophia Grisby
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Endless Fog - Scar Island Fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

> Book written by Dan Gemeinhart :)

Jonathan appreciated this type of weather much more now. The clouds blocked out most of the warmth from the sun, making it seem much later than it actually was. He didn't mind though, it was going to rain, he liked that. Jonathan used to hate it, but now...well...he was glad it was like this. 

The wind whipped his black hair around his forehead in a frigid burst that sent chills around his entire body and caused his ears to burn painfully. 

He shoved the side of his head into his shoulder, sheltering his left ear from the burning chill. It didn't do much, but it was better then sitting and twiddling his thumbs. 

Jonathan shifted on the moist, wooden bench beneath him, it becoming unbearably uncomfortable to rest on. He grit his teeth and shoved his head further back into his hood.

The watcher sitting on the other side of the wooden bench paid no attention to him, simply looking ahead to another part of the rotting wooden dock.

Squeezing his hands under his armpits, Jonathan shiverd and tired his best to conserve his body heat. Still, even with the cold, he appreciated the weater. The promise of rain, of no heat. 

Jonathan looked over at the watcher when she started fidgeting with something at her side, bringing it out and in front of herself. 

It was a shiny pair of handcuffs, the color bright in contrast to the bleak, cold sky above. 

The women turned to face him. "Hands out," she stated simply. 

Jonathan eyed the metal chains wearily, not taking his eyes off of them, as if they would pounce at him the moment he did. He felt an uncomfortable tingley sensation growing around his wrists at just the though of them being on his skin. 

The women must have gotten impatient with his staring, because the next thing he was registering was an annoyed sound coming from her and his right wrist being seized in a tight grip. His sweatshirt sleeve and shirt sleeve both being pushed up to his elbow. 

Jonathan was to shell shocked at the sudden movement and exposion that he couldn't move an inch, his body only seizing up stiffly. He felt the cold metal click around his wrist, causing a tremble down his arm. 

Just as the women grabbed his other wrist, about to pull up his only protective covering, he yanked his hands back as fast and as hard as he possibly could. Pulling them into his chest, he swiftly pulled down his sleeves up on his right arm. 

Jonathan's eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape, his arms began trembling as he felt a painful bruring sensation beginning to build up his fourarms. Choking on his breath, he looked up to the watcher as she looked at him with a confused expression. 

Why were they burning? He wasn't hurt, it had been a month since that night, he shouldn't feel anything. So why did it feel like his arms were engulfed in flames all over again? Reaching...only to fall short. 

She...Sophia...he could hear her. 

_Jonathan! Help! HELP!_

Oh god...

The fire, the heat, the smell of burning wood, metal...and flesh. The never ending heat.

Jonathan sunk in on himself, lowering his head and pulling his knees up some to cover a small part of his torso. His mouth was wide, and he felt a fimilar warm pressure building up behind his eyes. God, why was everthing so _hot?_

He closed his eyes and tired his damndest to only focus on his breath, which was coming out laberd and shaky.

"Relax," a voice came from above him, and again, he felt someone take his wrist in their hand. Jonathan grit his teeth and tired yanking his left arm back another time, but it was no use, the cuffs were already around his wrists, pulling his shoulders painfully together. The cold handcuffs against his burning skin causing him to gag. He could just picture his scars, all up and down his fourarms, turning his skin hard and dark, with lines running everywhere. 

Jonathan felt the presence of the women leave his space, moving down to the far end of the bench. He huddled in on himself, he didn't want anyone near him. 

Again, he focused on his breath and not his hot skin, squeezing his eyes shit tight. No...he was fine...it was fine...but how he wished _she_ was fine. How he wished _she_ was okay.

It took Jonathan a good ten minutes to relax back to his original state, his heart pumping at an almost normal speed now. The women never said a word or even looked in his direction. 

Jonathan heard a loud mutter of a motor out on the rough waves as they splashed agesnt the disintegrating wooden dock. He looked up to see a small boat puffing it's way towards him, the small thing rocking back and forth on the rough waters. 

As shamed as he felt admitting it to himself, a cold sweat broke out on him as he saw the boat approaching, a pit of pure fear making it's way into him. They were here to take him away. But what right did he have to feel fear or be upset? Imagine what Sophia must have felt, the _pain_ she must have been in? This was nothing compared to that. So he swallowed the lump in his throat and put on a brave and unbothered face. 

"Alright, time to get up," the women said, lifting herself off the bench. 

Jonathan eased up and walked over to the loading platform with her, his eyebrows knitted together. 

This was a good thing, to be leaving. And if he ended up crying? So be it. His family needed to be away from him, or at least, what was left of his family. Jonathan knew they loved him, he did, but he just couldn't fathom why. He'd never have the guts to ask either.

No, this _was_ a good thing. He'd go for his Mom and Dad, for Sophia. He'd go because it's what he deserved. He probably deserved even worse, actually. 


End file.
